'"
The four laughed. "That's his style, sure enough," Jim agreed.
"What does he want to do West?" asked Hench.
"_He_ doesn't know. Write a book, I believe, or something of that sort.
But he _isn't_ an ass. He has a lot of good stuff in him, only it will
never get a chance, fixed the way he is now."
A silence fell, which was broken at last by Bert.
"Come, Jeems," he suggested; "here we've taken up Hench's valuable
idea, but are no farther with it."
"True," said Jeems.
He rolled over on his hands and knees. Bert took up a similar position
by his side.
"Go!" shouted Hench from the window ledge.
At the word, the two on the mattress turned and grappled each other
fiercely, half rising to their feet in the strenuousness of endeavour.
Jeems tried frantically for a half-Nelson. While preventing it the wily
Bert awaited his chance for a hammer-lock. In the moment of indecision
as to which would succeed in his charitable design, a knock on the door
put an end to hostilities. The gladiators sat upright and panted.
A young man stepped bashfully into the room and closed the door behind
him.
The newcomer was a clean-cut young fellow, of perhaps twenty-two years
of age, with regular features, brown eyes, straight hair, and sensitive
lips.
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